Orange

I am the color orange

In all of its tints and hues

The most prevalent color on my palette

Painting my image, my spirit,

how I move and how I’m viewed

An old soul that sparks a sense of nostalgia

Like that groovy orange from the seventies

Heavenly

highs off acid tabs and ganja

I am the color orange

Most slept on

My light creating beauty and invoking feeling that goes unnoticed

While the world rests on

and moves on and goes on to prepare for another day or end another night

Like all the shades of orange,

The significance of mine are barely an after thought

A fleeting beauty, barely glimpsed at twice

Like the orange that starts at dawn

Starting with a flicker reflecting off the moon

Bright but just subtle enough to make even the slickest crescent visible

In comparison to the moon though, might as well be invisible

To carrying on and filling the entire morning sky with its hues

Most are too busy sleeping or preoccupied to really take in its views

Then dissipates and gets overshadowed by blues

That dominate the sky and give light and brighten up the day more than the orange ever could

But perhaps if it wasn’t so quickly outshone, it would

Like the orange that tries to make a comeback

at nightfall

All of its shades beaming bright giving its all

To try and provide enchantment and comfort,

Romance through sunbursts

But amidst all the effort, it’s a glamor that falls short

People seldom recall

An allurement seen far too often it’s not so much alluring at all

It gets overtaken by the less seen

pink and blue clouds in its rarities

Cotton candy skies better feed the eyes appetite

So they forget that orange can be just as sweet

It’s gets lost in the night sky overtaken by the contrast of darkness and the stars’ glistening gleam

I am the color orange

Continuously bursting though taken for granted

Like the orange illuminating the nighttime

Through high pressure lamps and

Eliminating darkness through streetlights

Offering a sense of safety and direction

The evanescence of my orange becomes evident

Once they’re home and my presence is no longer needed

My importance is disparaged by the fluorescents

I am the color the orange

I’m not a primary color so maybe that adds to my complexity

And has time and time again led me to be secondary

I’m not just the fierceness of red

Or the confidence of yellow

I am a mixture of so much that people pretend to

Understand even when they can’t comprehend

They underestimate and devalue my significance

I am a combination of love and friendship

Warmth and happiness

Creativity and excitement

Passion and enlightenment

A conversation between fury and patience

Strength and fearfulness

Confidence and defiance

Religion and science

Disobedience and compliance

The intricacies of orange in all of its shades I can align with

And since, like the color orange, I get minimal involvement

In discussion of the colors that create the things most beautiful we hold near and dear to our heart

The least used Crayola pulled out of the box

Any time I see the color orange

I pause as it’s a reminder of I

Let my retina soak it all into my eyes

Whether it’s the sunrise

Or the sky succumbing to its daily lullaby

The streetlights, the fall leaves, the Monarch’s wings

Or the heart of the flames I engulf myself in

In hopes that even a spark of my passion will flash through

Because not many appreciate the beauty of orange

Somebody has to